


Traveled This Far on the Back of Every Mistake

by Cinaed



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: F/M, Genderbending, Jossed, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-25
Updated: 2011-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:32:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sif looks past Thor towards the bifrost, to the spot where Loki let himself fall. "I shall go with you to Midgard," she says at last, and tries to pretend the emotion choking her is disgust for an unwanted task and not something so foolish as hope.</p><p>Thor sends them in all directions upon Midgard in pursuit of Loki-- Sif to the north, Hogun to the south, Volstagg to the east, and Fandral to the west.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traveled This Far on the Back of Every Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the norsekink prompt, 'Sif/female!Loki.' The title comes from "Antilamentation" by Dorianne Laux.

Thor's smile is as bright as the sun the day Heimdall announces that Jane Foster has reconnected the bridge between their two worlds and that any who wish it can venture back to Midgard. 

He smiles for a long moment, his expression empty of everything except joy. Then his expression darkens, shadows filling his eyes, and he turns to the Warriors Three and Sif. 

"If you are willing, my friends, I have a task for you," he says. 

"And what is this task?" Sif says, aiming for a neutral tone. Judging by the way Hogun's dark gaze lingers, she does not entirely succeed. She longs for Midgard, though, in a way that does not surprise her. Midgard does not hold sour memories and betrayals the way Asgard does. 

"Come with me to Midgard and help me find Loki," Thor says. "Heimdall tells me that he still lives, causing mischief on Jane's world."

It takes all of Sif's will not to close her eyes against the words. Thor does not mean this as an unkindness, she knows, but it feels like one nonetheless, to have Loki's survival announced so suddenly. 

"After all he did, you want Loki  _back_?" Volstagg begins, silenced too late by Fandral's warning look. Volstagg sighs, his broad shoulders slumping. "No offense, my lord, but if your brother doesn't wish to be found--"

"Loki wants to come home," Thor says quietly. "I know it." Faith tinges every syllable; determination hardens his features until he truly looks a king, fierce and unyielding.

Sif looks past Thor towards the bifrost, to the spot where Loki let himself fall. "I shall go with you to Midgard," she says at last, and tries to pretend the emotion choking her is disgust for an unwanted task and not something so foolish as hope.

\----

Thor sends them in all directions upon Midgard in pursuit of Loki-- Sif to the north, Hogun to the south, Volstagg to the east, and Fandral to the west.

The north is cold and stirs memories of the last time she fought alongside Loki, in the home of the frost giants. The memories leave a bitter taste in her mouth, and she wishes for mead. 

"And who are you looking for, child, in the cold of Norway?" a creaky voice asks. When she turns, an old man peers at her curiously with intent blue eyes. "And in such strange garb." 

"Greetings, elder," she says politely, her hand dropping away from her sword. "I am searching for...." She hesitates, for no word seems to describe Loki in full. He is as slippery in definition as he ever was to catch in his mischief. 

"A man I once thought I knew," she says at last. "His family wants him to return home."

Something flickers across the old man's face, a tremor of emotion that shudders through him. Even before he turns away, one hand moving briefly to his eyes which are shifting to a familiar green, Sif moves forward. 

"Loki," she says, the name burning her throat. Every part of her longs to seize him by the shoulders and shake him, to demand an explanation for all that he's done. She swallows back the questions that clutter her throat, says instead, "Your disguise does you no credit. Face me in your true form."

He laughs at that, a harsh sound that makes her pause. At the sound, all hope that he would return without any argument dies in her breast. "In my true form," he repeats, and laughs again. "I do not believe I shall. I think my true form would displease you very much, Lady Sif." Even as he speaks her name with a mocking edge, he proves his own words false, his body stretching taller, his white hair turning dark.

Finally Loki himself stands before her, his expression remote and unreadable.

Sif scowls, her momentary confusion shifting to irritation. "I do not wish to play your mind games, Loki," she snaps. "Thor asked me to bring you back home, and so I shall. If I cannot convince you that you are welcome in Asgard, I am certain Thor will be up to the task once I have dragged you back."

"You always did prefer brute force over subtler means of persuasion," Loki comments. He spreads his hands and shrugs. His expression is still unreadable, but Sif thinks there might be regret in the quiet way he says, "I will not return to Asgard, no matter what Thor wishes. Go and tell Thor--"

"I will tell Thor nothing," Sif says harshly. "You will come back home, Loki, if I have to drag you by the--"

"Fierce words," Loki says with a mocking twist of his lips. "Did you miss me that much, my lady?" 

Sif lunges, bearing Loki down upon the snow. There is a fleeting satisfaction at the surprise in his eyes, his expression laid bare for all to comprehend, and then he twists, trying to throw her off, and she focuses her mind wholly to her task. 

Sif pins him easily-- he is not half the wrestler his brother is, for all his schemes and tricks. She brings her face close to his, so close that she can feel his breath against her lips, see the way his pupils grow large until there is only a ring of green around the black. She ignores the sudden twist of her stomach, the way her body remembers the feel of him. 

"You know," she says, "I always thought you clever and perhaps a little prideful in your cleverness, but I never thought you cruel."

His mouth puckers as though he's tasted something bitter. "You do not know me at all," he says.

There is a grief and anger in his voice that makes her pause. "Perhaps not," she says quietly. "Indeed, I never thought you would try to murder your brother or try to kill the entire race of frost giants--"

Loki makes a noise like he's choking. For a moment Sif wonders if she threw him down too hard, shattered a rib or two. Then she realizes he's laughing, the hopeless, bitter noises rattling his frame.

"The frost giants," he says. "Why is it that everyone now loves the frost giants? They are  _monsters_ \--" The final word stutters in his throat, too choked with hatred to be anything but a whispered snarl. 

The sounds scrape against her ears and make her shudder. Loki lies prone under her hands, but it feels as though he's about to shatter into a thousand pieces. Sif cannot bear it.

"I bear no love for the frost giants," she says. "But you always did prefer subtler means of persuasion over brute force. Your actions seemed unlike you."

The words don't seem to register at first, and then he half-smiles, the laughter dying away. "I'd almost forgotten that you can fight with words as well as weapons, Sif," he says. This time her name sounds almost like it used to in his mouth, half-fond, half-exasperated.

Loki suddenly twists again, trying to throw her off. She tightens her grip, sends them both rolling through the snow until snow catches on her eyelashes and half-blinds her. "Enough," she says breathlessly into Loki's ear, lips brushing the cold skin there. "Enough with your foolishness, Loki. The All-Father has pardoned you for your crimes, your mother still weeps for you, and Thor misses you enough to send me and the Warriors Three roaming all of Midgard for you. You have a place at Asgard, no matter how much you play the martyr. Come home with me."

"No," Loki says, and he is shifting under her. She can feel his body changing, and prepares herself for a form like Volstagg or Thor, large and powerful.

Instead Loki's body seems to grow thinner, and Sif blinks away snowflakes in time to see the planes of his face shift. After a moment, Loki gazes back at her. He looks not much different than before in this female guise-- his lips are a touch fuller, and his features a touch softer, perhaps, but the same lean, clever look dominates his face.

"What is this trick?" Sif says, half-disbelieving. "Did you think I wouldn't fight a  _woman_?"

Loki smiles as though she's jesting. "I have no doubt you would," he says.

Sif's grip must have loosened slightly in her surprise and confusion for in the next second Sif's breath rushes from her with one well-placed jab of Loki's elbow. She rolls away, clutching her side and gasping out a curse. 

She can hear Loki begin to get to his feet, and lashes out with a well-placed kick. Loki's yelp and the thud his body makes as it hits the ground is satisfying to hear even through her own discomfort. Loki will not walk away from her. Not today.

"Loki, stop this," she gasps, sitting up and watching him clutch his knee and grimace. "Your family forgives you--"

" _Enough_!" Loki snaps. "Enough," he says more quietly, his eyes dropping to the ground. He says through gritted teeth, "I do not wish to return to Asgard. I wish to remain here."

Sif stares. "And to think," she says, marveling, "I once thought you the most skilled liar in all the worlds. You long for Asgard with every breath. Your family misses you--"

"And you?" Loki asks. "Do you miss me?" Perhaps he was trying to taunt her, but the question comes out low and almost cautious. His lashes dip low, suddenly, but she thinks she can read the rueful look in his eyes nonetheless. 

Sif presses her lips so tightly together that she is surprised she doesn't taste blood. "Asgard is dull without your mischief," she says. It is not quite an answer, but for the moment it is all she can bear to give him.

Loki doesn't quite smile at that, but when he leverages himself to his feet, he extends a hand to her. His hands as a woman are just the same, his fingers long and slender and still callused from his time among the scrolls and books. 

"You will regret your words in a month's time," he promises, and she shakes her head.

"I won't," she says. 

Loki does smile then, and his eyes begin to gleam with familiar mirth. "Oh yes, you will," he says.

  



End file.
